


Ebullient

by wistfulwatcher



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually all things boil and overflow. Will/Rachel, oneshot. Written for cliche 30 prompt, "hot tub, drinking game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ebullient

  


Rachel knew the grin on her face was a little big, but she _loved_ weddings. Well, the one she'd been at, she'd loved. Granted she had been four, but she remembered how she felt in her flower-girl dress, and that had to mean something, right?

She was also aware that she was borderline skipping down the hallway, but she was allowed to be excited to see her boyfriend, all best man and adult-like. Nearing the doorway, Rachel was suddenly very aware of someone talking to Finn, a _female_ someone. Was that Santana?

"What's your point?" she heard Finn ask the possibly-Santana.

"My point is that you need a coolness injection. If you were honest and told people we did it last year, you would go from uncool to chilly-willy in a heartbeat."

Rachel's blood pounded in her ears. Had she heard that right? But Finn had told her that nothing had happened between them. Had he lied? She had, sure, but it was to make him jealous, not because she had been ashamed of her actions. Besides, she had come clean very early into their renewed relationship.

Taking a silent step backward, Rachel leaned against the wall by the door. Glancing quickly to either side of her, she noted that the hallway was empty, as she felt the heat of tears prickling behind her eyes, thoughts and images coming unbidden to her mind.

What if he didn't lie to her because he was ashamed—what if he did it to boost his chances to get back together? Would he really do something like that? Was he still interested in Santana? Was he playing both of them?

As the cacophony of questions started to overwhelm her, Rachel noticed a shadow to her right. One of the men she recognized as Kurt's family was walking her way. Sniffling and swiping at her cheeks to check that no tears had fallen, Rachel pasted on her show smile, and nodded at the relative.

While she wanted to go into that room, kick Santana out, and get to the bottom of things, she realized that might not be the best course of action. While she usually had a shoot-first-ask-questions-later approach, Rachel did have her strategic moments, and this was one of them. Besides, weddings were supposed to be beautiful and untainted, and Kurt had worked so hard to make it so.

Ever since their duet together, things had changed between Rachel and Kurt, and she was determined to keep them this way. Despite his confident, better-than-you attitude he'd always shown to Rachel, she'd realized that he felt every bit the outcast she did, even though he had way more friends than her. Her acknowledgement of his pain had opened a whole new door to their friendship, one that she didn't want to close any time soon.

After thinking things through, Rachel took a deep breath and walked into the room, just as Santana was whispering to Finn.

"Hey," she was pleased to find her voice a normal tone. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing. I was just leaving." _Bitch_ , she thought, but instead Rachel just nodded as the Cheerio brushed past her. Feeling a spot on her cheek, Rachel turned her body, swiping again at her cheek, just to make sure her skin was dry. Relieved to find it was, she faced Finn again.

She smiled, and turned back to her boyfriend. "Aren't you going to tell me how pretty I look?" Rachel gave a little sway, hoping it came off playful, and not hurt.

Finn, it seemed, thought the former, and looked at her for a minute. "You look amazing," he replied, a little lilt in his voice. _Guilt, perhaps?_ Rachel thought snidely.

It seemed he wanted to say something more. "What?" she prompted.

"I…I just really love you." _Guilt it is._

"I love you, too." And she meant it, she did. It just felt different this time, just a little. He gave her a little chuck under the chin, and she smiled, deciding to figure out what kind of different it felt after the wedding.

The wedding had been beautiful, and so heartfelt. Rachel couldn't help but gulp a little during Carol and Burt's vows, knowing that everything wasn't exactly right with her own relationship. The guests had hurried to the reception a few blocks away from the church. The weather had been nice, so they had all decided to walk.

The conversation had mostly consisted of congratulations to the couple, compliments to Kurt, and some soft singing among the glee kids. Rachel had been unable to resist the chorus of "Somebody to Love," and had wrapped her arm around Kurt's with a smile.

Hearing a laugh behind her, she turned her head. Mr. Schue was just two people back, so she gave Kurt a squeeze before hanging back so Mr. Schue could catch up to her. "You think our singing is funny? Because I believe there is a wedding of people that will disagree with you."

He smiled at her teasing, before looking down and shaking his head softly. "I would never." There was a pause, and then he looked up again. "You all did a fantastic job, by the way. I was so proud."

"As you should be," she gave a definitive, tight-lipped smile. Still riding the euphoria of the wedding, Rachel looped her arm around Mr. Schue's like she'd been doing to Kurt. He looked down quickly, and she felt his arm tense, so she squeezed his forearm with her other hand. "I hear we'll be hearing a little something from you in a few minutes."

Will gave her an uneasy smile, and patted her hand with his. "Not as impressive as you kids, but I'll do my best."

"That's all we can ask," Rachel chirped, before dropping Mr. Schue's arm and skipping up to rejoin Kurt and Finn.

Mr. Schue's rendition of "Sway" had been fantastic, and Rachel had been able to lose herself and her Finn-drama in his soothing voice. She had watched the couple on the dance floor with a smile on her face, but when Mr. Schue's singing had stopped in the middle of the song, she had looked up.

He had been pausing to do a little move with the microphone stand, and when Rachel had looked up at him, she could have almost sworn he gave her a little wink as he started to sing again.

Rachel managed to keep herself together throughout most of the reception, through Finn's toast, and the dance he'd suggested for Kurt. She'd gotten a little choked up when Finn had sung to her, at the beginning of the song, but despite this bump in their relationship, she knew he did love her, at least a little, so she smiled sweetly at him, ignoring the tightening of her chest.

Unfortunately, Rachel's control extended only so far, and the three glasses of champagne she'd had during the reception hadn't been helping her manage her emotions any. So, when Finn dropped into the seat next to her (Mr. Schue's seat, she noted), she felt in surge of heat rush through her body as she had the sudden urge to punch his nose.

"Hey, Rach," he said as he covered her small hands in his. She gave him a twist of her lips (she hoped it resembled a smile) and pulled her hands out from under his.

"Finn, may I have your room key? I think I need to rest for a while." Finn loved staying in hotels, and had been an adamant proponent of the reception location.

"Uh, sure, I guess." He looked confused, but handed over his card anyway. Rachel took it and mumbled a thank you, before turning to leave. She glanced down at a silver tray of fresh champagne, grabbing a glass before continuing to leave.

The second she was in the hallway, and the door to the ballroom had closed behind her, Rachel realized how loud, stuffy, and dark it had been in there, as her eyes tried to adjust to the harsh hall lights. She noted that it had gotten rather late, judging by the darkness outside the windows.

Swaying slightly, Rachel headed in the direction of the stairway, and swung open the door. To her left, she noticed the pool entrance, and glanced in the window. Noting it was completely empty, and, judging by the pool hours, was likely to stay that way, she slipped the key in the lock, and ducked in.

The pool was gorgeous, quite spacious with inviting pool-blue water. She also noticed, quite gleefully, that there was a hot tub to her right tucked into a corner slightly out of view of the door, lightly bubbling with some steam rising. She dropped her little purse on the table by the tub, along with her champagne flute. Leaning her hand against the cool glass of the table top, she raised her knee and pulled off her shoe, and then repeated the process with just a little bit of trouble, for the other foot.

Free of the silver heels, she reached her right hand up into her hair, freeing the clip holding her neat updo, and letting her now-wavy hair fall loose. Brushing her hand against her neck to shake it loose, her thumb swept against the rough chain of her necklace. As her eyes watered ever-so-slightly, she brought her other hand up to undo the clasp, before pulling it away from her neck and dropping it on the table. Finally, she picked up her glass, and set it by the edge of the hot tub, before crouching down and sitting next to it, letting her feet fall into the warm water.

Rachel sighed, and leaned back on her hands, and closed her eyes. Knowing it wasn't really the time to figure out her relationship with Finn, considering she was a little tipsy, she tried to focus on nothing but the warm water rushing between her toes, but found herself naturally trying to figure out how she felt.

She knew she loved Finn, and, for that matter, that he loved her. But, she had to admit, that she didn't feel that classic love story pull that she had in the beginning. Back then he had been the quarterback, and she had been the outcast girl who understood him, everything a romance should have been. It had been forbidden, and clandestine, and she had felt special when she had been pursuing him.

But now…did she love Finn as a friend, then? She certainly cared about him, and wanted the best for him, but she also knew that there was a chance that no longer meant her. And when she had overheard Santana, there had been an immediate feeling of hurt and betrayal, and anger, which she'd expect, but also…had it been _relief_? There had been an unmistakable lifting in her chest, despite a pressure from within.

Taking a sip from her glass, she shook her head, trying to dislodge her thoughts. "Rachel?" She turned her head quickly, surprised by the sudden noise. Mr. Schue stood near the doorway to the pool, looking confused. He looked behind him, before entering the room fully, and letting to door click shut behind him. As he walked toward her, he shrugged his shoulders and put his hand in his pocket. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him critically for a moment, before answering slowly, "Thinking."

She noticed how awkward Mr. Schue looked, shuffling one foot in front of himself, his eyes downcast. "Figure anything out?"

"Possibly. What are you doing in here?"

"Same, I guess." There was silence for a minute, before Rachel heard Mr. Schue clear his throat. "Finn's been looking for you. I told him I'd let him know if I found you."

"Will you hand me my purse?" she asked, gesturing to the table behind him with her head.

Mr. Schue turned, before grabbing the small red satin clutch, and handing it to her. He watched as she took her phone out and texted Finn. Once she shut her phone and slipped it back into the bag, he asked, "What did you tell him?" but she noticed that his voice sounded weird. Almost sad?

"That I went home." She waited for him to berate her for the lie, for hiding, for…something. When none came, she patted the space beside her, and picked up her glass. "You should put your feet in. It helps."

He shifted above her, and she was almost certain that he was going to leave, go back into the party, and tell Finn where she was.

The click of a heel on the tile made her look back, to where Mr. Schue was dropping his shoes, and then his socks. She watched him roll of the legs of his pants to his knees, before taking the space next to her, and letting his feet drop in as hers had. The sudden weight addition to the water caused it to lap up, wetting Rachel's calves. She flexed her toes.

"You're only sixteen, you know." She assumed he was referring to the alcohol in her hand.

"It's my boyfriend's mom's wedding." She glanced to his side, noting the bottle in his hand. Lifting her eyebrows in a way she knew to be judgmental, she tilted her head towards him.

"I, uh, I wasn't exactly looking to find you," he cleared his throat and took a sip. A few months ago, such a comment from Mr. Schue would have brought tears to her eyes. But either she was a little more tipsy than she thought, or she had actually understood that it wasn't a reflection on her, so much as his need to be alone.

There was a silence as Rachel tried to follow the thought process her brain had just taken, only to be broken when Mr. Schue shifted back, starting to lift his legs out of the water. "I think I should leave. You should go find Finn, you know."

Mr. Schue had to be a little more gone than the level of that bottle would imply, because their conversation was feeling very strange. Even stranger was the flash of panic that went through her when she realized that he was leaving her. "Finn slept with Santana."

 _That wasn't what I should have said_ , she realized the moment she said it. She waited for a moment, her head angled toward her right, so she could gauge Mr. Schue's reaction. "Oh," was all he said, as she noted how raised his eyebrows were. He cleared his throat and she saw him look to the door.

That flash ran through her again as she watched him debate leaving, until she took another sip of her champagne. She rested the bottom of the glass on her knee as she turned to look at him. She knew her body language (and, the words she was about to say) were begging for him not to leave her, but it wouldn't be the first time she entered a situation consciously-pathetic.

"When I was dating Jesse. Which, I know, sounds like I had no claim on him. But—"

"He knew you were wanted to be together, that you both were supposed to be with each other?" Rachel's eyes shot quickly to his face, her mouth dropping open slightly.

" _Yes_ , exactly. How did you know that?" Mr. Schue gave a sigh, and let his feet drop back into the hot tub. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand and shook his head.

"I can relate." He didn't say anything else, but Rachel could tell he wanted to.

"Ms. Pillsbury? And Dr. Howell?" Mr. Schue's lips twitched into a humorless smirk, and Rachel thought it might have been the most defeated she'd ever seen her favorite teacher. He'd been bad after his divorce, and when he'd had to fight for Glee, especially against Mr. Ryan. But then again, she supposed he'd had an active role (of defender, protector) in those situations. With Ms. Pillsbury, he was the pursuer, wasn't he? And couldn't she relate to _that_?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. Ms. Pillsbury made a mistake. You're a much better catch than her dentist. You're a much better performer, of course." Mr. Schue gave a muffled chuckle at that, and she looked back at him. Shrugging her left shoulder defensively, Rachel added, "Not that there aren't other qualities you possess. It's just that those are the ones I can best attest to and—"

His left hand patted her right knee gently. She noted how cold his hand was, and she assumed it was from the glass of the bottle. She wondered if she should test that theory, and touch another part of his body. Her eyes ran up his height, noting with disappointment that the only unclothed areas on him were his face and the parts of his legs that were immersed in the hot tub.

"Thank you, Rachel. It's good to know I have you in my corner." He raised the bottle to his lips again, but murmured, "God knows I wouldn't want you in the other one," before taking a drink.

Feeling her mouth getting a little dry, Rachel finished off her glass of champagne, looking into it when she was done. Her resulting sigh was very audible, and drew another laugh from the teacher beside her. Turning to him and pouting in mock annoyance, Rachel eyed his still full bottle. "I guess that means you'll have to share, Mr. Schue."

 _That sounded awful, for several reasons_ , she inwardly grimaced. Not only was the buzzed-flirtation evident in her tone, but she was asking her teacher for alcohol, openly. His bemused eyebrow quirk told her that he'd had similar thoughts.

But Rachel's night was starting to improve, and she wanted more of whatever was the cause. Setting the champagne flute behind her on the side away from him, she turned back with her hands raised up. "Fine, I know what you're going to say. However, I would be willing to bet you weren't a strict rule follower always, either." She held his gaze, knowing that he _had_ to have done something rebellious when he was her age.

"The answer is no, Rachel." _To which question?_ she almost asked, but instead bit her lip.

Thinking back to a story she'd overheard Santana telling, her eyes lit up with a plan. "Fine, how about we play for it?" Before he could refuse her, she put her hand on the bottle, right beneath his grip, and she could feel the chilled flesh brushing against hers. "We'll play 'I Never.'"

Mr. Schue was pulling the bottle away from her, but she could tell his curiosity got the better of him when he stopped his motion. "'I Never'?"

"It's a drinking game. The first person says something they've never done, and if the other person has done it, they take a drink. So if you don't want me to drink, you better have some obscure things you've never done."

Rachel was expecting a refusal right out, but Mr. Schue paused for a moment. It was all the ammunition she needed, so when he _did_ start to tell her no way in Hell was he playing this game, she barreled on. "I've never messed up a song lyric on stage."

Rachel caught the two spots rising on Mr. Schue's cheeks, and she let go of the bottle. "You have, haven't you? You have to drink, now." Rachel watched as he shook his head and did just that.

Aware of the victorious grin on her face, Rachel tried to reign herself in. "OK, very fun, we're done now, and you're going to go see Finn." Rachel pouted a little as his legs once again began to withdraw from the warm water.

"Fine, I'll go again. I've never dated a girl." He shot her a weird look, and she giggled in response. "I _know_ you have to drink to that one." Again, he did as she told him to. "I've also never kissed a girl." He drank.

Her giggling was a little more than she wanted it to be, and she knew she was still under the effects of the champagne. But spending time with Mr. Schue? No way was she going to stop for anything less than a personal appearance of Barbra.

"You think that's so funny, huh? I've never kissed a boy," and he _stuck his tongue out at her_. She was so surprised she almost missed her opportunity to grab the bottle and take a drink.

And after she did, she'd wished she had missed it. The burning she'd felt was wholly unexpected as she stuck her tongue out in response, and made a very unattractive choking sound. Embarrassed, she looked up at Mr. Schue to see his face conflicted—she _just knew_ he was suppressing laughter, but his eyebrows were crinkled in concern.

Before he could tell her no again, she pushed the bottle at him and said, "I've never had _sex_ with a girl." The crinkle deepened, but he drank, and so she added one more. "I've never…worn pants twice in the same week."

That did the trick, and the crinkle turned more into a confused face, before Mr. Schue laughed and drank. He turned to her, and smirked. "Yeah, what's up with that? How are you comfortable in skirts all the time?"

Rachel giggled and took the bottle. "Uh uh! I believe it's your turn."

"I've never…been to Japan." Rachel took a drink. When she brought the bottle back down, she nearly spit it out. Mr. Schue had the most confused look on his face. "Seriously?" She nodded, giggling again.

Handing the bottle back to Mr. Schue, she noted that his eyes seemed heavy, and he was leaning in toward her, more than he had before. In fact, since they'd started playing they'd angled more toward each other, and their knees were less than two inches apart.

He'd also not stopped smiling since the game had picked up, and Rachel realized that she really did not want him to. "I've never…" she squinted her eyes and looked to the ceiling as she tried to think of a good one. She'd been around enough adults (her fathers had wine-tastings often, and a few of their friends didn't have the best self-control) to know what it looked like for someone to be drunk. Mr. Schue wasn't, definitely, but he was just as decidedly buzzed. So pushing a few more drinks on him couldn't really hurt, right?

Committing to her decision, Rachel started again. "I've never been—" _divorced_ , she'd been about to say, but that seemed a little _too_ callous. "Married," she finished instead.

Mr. Schue gulped, and took the bottle a little more aggressively than he'd been earlier. _So he's a little more sensitive than I thought_ , she realized. Confused, she watched as he rolled his shoulders, stretching himself out as he prepared to take his turn. Hadn't he been upset about Ms. Pillsbury? But he still had feelings for his wife?

"This seems a little targeted, Rach," his tone was confident, a little aggressive and raspy, but she figured that might be the burn that was sure to still be in his throat.

Giggling nervously, she brushed the bangs out of her eyes and shrugged. "That's kind of the point, M—" she faked a cough to cover the proper title she'd almost given him. _No need to remind him of how inappropriate this is,_ she reasoned. "Your turn."

"Alright. I've never sent someone to a _crack house_."

She took the bottle without making eye contact, her fingers twitching a little as she closed around glass. The bottle to her lips, she hazarded a glance, only to choke on the liquid as she caught his eye. He looked… _wicked_. The booze was starting to affect him, but it was more—he seemed angry, but playful. Mr. Schue looked devious.

The resulting cough was a mixture of laughter and pure shock as she took in his expression. _The others would never believe it if I told them._ That thought was sobering in itself, and her sputtering ceased. Finn. She hadn't thought about him in the past few minutes, and if she was being honest with herself, that fact was quite liberating.

"To be fair, it wasn't active." Mr. Schue just laughed and shook his head. Maybe he really was being playful. Had he forgiven her that indiscretion? "Hmmm. I've never…" she racked her brain for something along the same lines, playful with a little bite. "Not been asked to dance at a wedding." She practically shoved the bottle into his hands, and in response his right hand covered hers while his left went on the bottom of the glass.

Gulping audibly, she could have _sworn_ she caught a glint in his eyes at the intake of breath she had taken reflexively to the flesh-on-flesh contact. She watched closely as his lips closed around the rim of the bottle, and her eyes narrowed as her brows furrowed. _He_ never _touches me, but he touches the others._ She could clearly picture his hands on Mercedes, Santana, Puck, Quinn, Finn—the list went on and on. _Why can't he touch me?_

The question was poised to leave her lips, until something else came out. "I'm sorry we didn't dance with you, Mr. Schue."

He laughed, and shifted his legs in the water, his left hand tugging his pants leg up higher. "That's alright, Rachel," but she couldn't help but think it sounded a little hallow.

"No, really, Mr. Schue. I saw you, while we were singing. You were watching us, and you looked lonely. I, I wanted to. Dance with you, I mean." Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, but she looked up at him this time, she wanted to see his reaction more than she wanted to hide hers.

He wasn't saying anything, but he also kept her eye contact, so she continued. "But Finn was right there, and I knew he would think something was up, that I wanted to make him jealous. And I was trying so hard, I wanted _so badly_ not to ruin this for Kurt, not when he was just staring to like me.

"I'm sure you wouldn't have said yes, anyway." A look of guilt marred his features, and as the rejection shot through her, just as fresh and intense as during her crush last year, she finally looked down at her knees. Tugging at the hem of her dress, she realized she had steered the conversation away from the light air they'd had. Before the damage could be permanent, she looked back up with a smile and a roll of her eyes. "But I've never been hit on by a soccer mom at a wedding, either."

He laughed again, and a jolt of pride went through Rachel. "You saw that?"

"Yep! Drink!" As he did, she added, "I was talking to Brittany about Santana very loudly near Finn to see if he'd look over, guiltily." At his incredulous look, she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. "Although that test did cause Brittany to proposition me for a threesome. Along with completely failing in my objective."

"Wow." She wasn't quite sure what he was responding to, the threesome or the test, but he handed her the bottle and said, "I've never made my relationship more dramatic than it was."

She drank, but when she was finished she handed the bottle back. "Alright, I deserved that. But you, sir, are lying. We've all heard the rumors. Actually, we heard them from Coach Sylvester. She made a few announcements when you were out of the building. I know for a fact you have to drink to that one, too."

Rachel was certain he was about to argue, but instead seemed to think it over, and nod his head slowly. "Fine," and he took a sip.

"I think there needs to be a penalty for lying, too." She braced her hands on the edge of the hot tub and moved her legs in the water as she thought. "Truth or dare, Mr. Schue."

"Uh, not gonna happen, Rach."

"Why not? It's no worse than what we're doing now." She knew it was risky to bait him by blatantly referencing their illicit behavior, but she was fairly confident that he was on that precipice where he'd give in pretty easily.

"Dare." _I was right!_

"I dare you to," she had to think about this carefully, or she could risk him leaving. "say that you, William Schuester, are a drama queen."

Mr. Schue looked at her for a moment, his eyelids heavy, before he broke into a dopey grin. Laughing, he held up the bottle (though it seemed he was attempting the boy scout salute around the neck), and said, "I, William Schuester," he paused and sighed dramatically, "am a drama queen."

Rachel giggled happily and clapped her hands quickly. "OK! Now don't lie this time," as she gestured to the bottle.

Mr. Schue thought for a moment, and Rachel took the opportunity to study his face. His hair was mussed, his eyelids were heavy (but not so bad he couldn't keep them open, just a little fuzzy), and his mouth was open in thought, though he was retaining the ghost of a smile.

"I have never been in a wedding," he gave a triumphant huff, before handing Rachel the bottle.

Rachel smiled before drinking, but shot a glance at Mr. Schue over the bottom of the bottle. After she drank, she handed the bottle back. "You were in your wedding, silly."

He looked sad as he drank, and Rachel felt a stab of guilt for bringing it back to his divorce. But once he set the bottle on the tile, he said, "I can't believe I just totally forgot that," before smiling wide and laughing deeply. Taking this burst of mirth as a good sign, Rachel leaned back on the heels of her palms before biting her bottom lip.

"Dare again, or do you want to mix it up?" Rachel noticed Mr. Schue's audible gulp, but waited until he spoke.

"Dare," he seemed nervous, and that caused a wicked smile to cross her lips. He'd been getting more and more skittish over the last fifteen minutes, somehow at the same time he was becoming more comfortable. Too busy focusing on the dare to deal with that paradox, Rachel tapped a finger to her lips, thinking.

"I dare you to make monkey noises. Loud ones," she kicked her legs under the water, and she suddenly felt very young. Mr. Schue stared at her, and she knew he was thinking something similar, so she flexed her toes instead, and rested her right hand on the back of her neck, feeling the heat there.

"That's unexpected," he giggled, before producing the animal noises. Rachel threw her head back and listened as her favorite teacher performed some terrible monkey impressions. When she looked back at him, he was air-scratching at his side and top of his head, causing Rachel's laughter to grow louder.

Finally the show ended, and Rachel watched him grimace at himself when he was finished. "Lovely performance," she clapped. He rolled his eyes and looked at her pointedly.

She paused a moment before smiling and proudly saying, "I've never skipped a homework assignment." She handed him the bottle and waited for him to take a drink.

Mr. Schue looked at the bottle but didn't take it. "What makes you think I have? You're not the only perfect student in the world." Rachel gave him a pointed look and tilted her head, waiting for him to drink. Finally he sighed and took a sip. "You're right, I've skipped assignments." Smirking, he handed her the bottle, which she took with a confused knitting of her eyebrows. "I was in the teacher's lounge on Wednesday, and Ms. Pearson pulled me aside to ask if you were alright."

Rachel giggled nervously. "What? Why would she ask you that?"

Mr. Schue shook his head slowly, and continued, "It turns out you never turned in your map of the continents, Rachel. Ms. Pearson was very concerned."

Rachel looked stunned for a moment before shaking her head. "What? I can't believe I forgot that. It must have just been because of the wedding." Rachel glanced at Mr. Schue, and narrowed her eyes at his smirk. "Oh, please. It was just one little map. I don't see why we have to make an entire assignment out of something we should have learned in the 3rd grade. Honestly, to test us on our _continents_? That's just insulting."

"She said your class average grade for that assignment was a B-," Mr. Schue said with a small sad smile. Rachel's mouth dropped open in shock, before she threw her head back in laughter. When she calmed down, Mr. Schue handed the bottle to her.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel muttered, "I'll turn it in on Monday," before taking her drink.

As she brought the bottle down, Mr. Schue leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he tilted his head to face Rachel. "So, truth or dare?" As the question left his lips, Rachel caught a flicker of panic, and saw the playful smile slip quickly from his lips. Knowing he was about the call it quits to their little game again, Rachel dropped her foot into the water harshly to get his attention.

"Truth." She pasted her biggest smile on, hoping to show Mr. Schue she was just being playful, encouraging him to continue their game. Looking up from his hands' place in his lap, Mr. Schue looked at Rachel for a long time, his eyes locking onto hers.

After a minute, Rachel started to shift under his scrutiny. She kept eye contact, but she couldn't help but feel like Mr. Schue wasn't just looking at her, but rather, that he was looking _through_ her. At once she felt both hurt, that he wasn't really paying attention to _her_ , but also extremely flattered; there was something in his gaze that made her feel like what he was seeing, he was understanding. It was the latter that gave her the strength to remain still—she'd never really thought about it before, but the thought that Will Schuester understood her shot a jolt of pride and comfort through Rachel.

Gulping as she realized Mr. Schue was opening his mouth, about to ask her a question, Rachel braced herself. "Why," she maintained eye contact, even though she could feel her eye start to twitch from the strain. Suddenly, he looked away and cleared his throat, and Rachel knew whatever he was about to ask her, he wouldn't. Instead, he smiled (she could tell it even felt false), and asked, "Which role do you want to do most of your three dream roles?"

Rachel giggled. She'd talked about _Funny Girl, Evita,_ and _Oklahoma!_ enough for everyone to know her post-college plans. "Evita, definitely. As much as I adore Barbra's signature role, it doesn't showcase quite the emotional depth of Evita."

Mr. Schue smirked and looked down at his feet in the water. Rachel grinned and handed him the bottle from the tile between them. "I've never had," _a crush on a co-worker_ , Rachel wanted to say, but somehow the "crush" phrase just made her feel very, very young, so she finished, "feelings for a co-worker."

Will mock-pouted before drinking from the bottle. Rachel caught a twinkle in his eye before Mr. Schue handed the bottle back to her with, "Well I've never had a crush on a teacher."

Her giggle now was awkward, as that very teacher she'd had the crush on was in front of her, handing her a bottle of booze. Rachel was very conscious of his eyes on her as she took a small sip from the lip of the bottle.

Wanting to clear the awkwardness his offering had caused, Rachel handed him back the bottle, saying, " _Miss_ Pillsbury is a teacher, _Mr._ Schue. Drink up!" Mr. Schue looked confused for a minute before rolling his eyes and laughing, then taking his drink.

As Rachel watched him, she realized how lightheaded she was getting, and leaned back on her arms. She noticed that even with the small size of the sips she'd been taking, the alcohol was really starting to have its effect. Despite herself, Rachel took in the attractive man before her, being more open and comfortable than he had (anyone had, really) ever been with her. That knowledge joined in with the cacophony of half-formed thoughts in her head and she closed her eyes for just a moment, a small smile gracing her lips.

"What?" His question brought her out of her relaxed doze, and she opened her eyes to smile at him, her teeth barred in a contented grin.

"You're really bad at telling the truth, I guess. So which will it be?" She narrowed her eyes in a mock-glare, and he smiled back before nodding.

"Dare again?" He shrugged his shoulders but lowered his eyes to the floor, his hand resting on his leg as he turned a little to the side. Rachel watched him curiously, and finally, as he was not making eye contact anymore, she asked, "What do you think I'll ask?" He seemed to freeze at what Rachel had meant mostly as a joke. Now she was intrigued. Scooting ever so slightly closer, Rachel rested her right hand on the tile just inches from his thigh, and leaned forward a little. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she asked, "What don't you want me to know?"

Mr. Schue didn't move, but she did see him gulp. Deciding she was pushing it, she leaned away from him and withdrew her hand, but made sure it grazed his outer thigh the slightest bit. She let out a wavering giggle, and breathed an inward sigh of relief when Mr. Schue visibly relaxed. "I dare you to serenade me."

Mr. Schue laughed and quirked an eyebrow at her, before bringing his left leg out of the water, and turning to rest it on the dry tile between them. Now turned toward her, he made an over-the-top romantic male lead face, and took Rachel's right hand in his. "I've no proof, when people say you're more or less aloof," Rachel giggled, but couldn't help the butterflies that rose to the tone of Mr. Schuester's beautiful voice. "But you're sensational.

"I don't care if you're called 'the Fair Ms. Frigidaire, 'cause you're sensational." A deep blush was most certainly rising high on her cheeks, and she just knew her hands were getting too warm. Rachel maintained eye-contact with him, though, despite these embarrassing afflictions.

As Mr. Schue sang the end of the second stanza, Rachel realized he hadn't broken contact with her, and, in fact, his grip on her hand had tightened. Being familiar with the song, Rachel immediately noted the upcoming verse was to begin with, _making love is quite an art_.

As such, she was both relieved and disappointed when Mr. Schue stopped singing, though his eyes remained focused on hers, his pupils shifting quickly, as if he was trying to gauge her reaction. Finally the frantic pursuit ceased, and he dropped her hand as he shot her a boyish smile. "Good enough?"

Laughing humorlessly, Rachel replied, "Definitely," as she rested her clammy hand on the bottle between them, trying to cool it off again. Lost in thought (or just spacing out, she couldn't quite be sure), Rachel was startled by Mr. Schue's voice.

"Truth or dare?"

Confused, she looked over to see him facing her still with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Truth or dare?"

"I didn't lie," she laughed, tugging at the hem of her dress nervously.

"Truth or dare?" She laughed more deeply this time, giving him a smirk before shaking her head.

"Truth," it really was bothering her knowing he wanted to ask her something earlier that he'd obviously thought better of, the way he quickly retracted it in his mind. _But surely his mind is a little softer around the edges right now?_ It was a little shady on her part, to be sure, but he _had_ asked her, had he not?

"Are you over your crush on me?"

The air rushed out of her lungs with that one question, and Rachel's hand flew to her chest. Dramatic, to be sure, but apt. Mr. Schue's jaw was clenched and she could see him breathing more deeply than usual, but other than that he was showing no signs that he would rather she brush the question off.

The intensity of his urge to get an answer from her surprised Rachel, and she considered her answer before deciding she couldn't look at his face while she answered. "Who," she looked up once more to verify that he wanted a real answer.

He did. "Who said it was a crush?" She kept her tone light, but the heft of her words was tangible as the pressure rested on her chest. Like a flash the room was too stuffy, too humid, and Rachel could feel the stickiness of heat on her lower back, her inner thighs, her hair curling against her cheek, her neck.

Not ready to look at his reaction, Rachel blindly gripped the bottle with her other hand, using both to bring the lip to hers, knowing full well that the visual would be far less sophisticated than she'd like. Before she drank, she whispered, "I've never wanted someone older than me," then took a significantly larger sip than before.

Turning her head as she felt the liquid touch her lips, she met Mr. Schue's eyes, now dark. _He's furious,_ she gulped down both the burning liquid and her own guilty admission. As she pulled the neck from her mouth, his hand shot out to take the bottle from her.

"I've never wanted someone younger than me," before pursing his lips, his eyes as dark as she's ever seen them, slightly unfocused, yet completely focused on her as his drink matched hers.

"You lied," he pointed out, gesturing with the bottle neck before setting it between them.

Her voiced cracked as she took a gamble: "You did, too."

When he smirked it felt like winning, his desire for her better than any trophy gracing her bookshelves. She bit the inside of her cheek, a jolt of pleasure racing up her spine as his gaze swept her length. The slick material on her thighs beneath her fingertips was red, she noted, as she forced her hands to stay on her own person. _I am Little Red Riding Hood_ , she mused, as her very own big bad wolf sat inches from her. The danger involved for both of them did not escape Rachel, and she smirked, before looking to the water coursing between her toes.

"Dare, I presume?" Rachel was keeping eye contact, unflinchingly, knowing he was liable to spook the second reason returned to his brain. "Jump in," she tilted her head to the hot tub, swinging her feet beneath the water.

"No way," he was firm, but his lips were twitching in amusement, telling Rachel this game wasn't quite through. "You lied first, you jump in." She gave a slow smile as she shook her head, adamant.

"I've been far more truthful this evening. Look, I'll turn around," and before he could answer, she did just that, bringing her feet from the water and tucking them beneath her bottom as she turned to face the door. Not seeing any sign of life anywhere outside of the pool room, Rachel breathed a small sigh of relief.

She waited a moment to hear Mr. Schue getting into the water. Not hearing anything she braced herself for the speech, the realization that she just wasn't— _splash._

Turning, Rachel noticed the pile of clothes by the hot tub before her _teacher_ ' _s_ clearly naked chest peeking from the rushing water. He was sitting across from her, waiting. "Your turn," his voice was low, sharp like uneven gravel roads, and Rachel had the sudden urge to run her hand on his throat, to see if it really felt like that.

Maintaining eye contact with him, Rachel stepped closer to the hot tub, and reached to her back with her left hand. Grasping the zipper, Rachel tugged at it, her breath quickening as she saw Mr. Schue's shoulders tense, his eyes growing heavier.

The slide of the zipper was unexpectedly harsh in the echo-y room, and Rachel bit her lip in sudden embarrassment. _I'm taking my dress off, in front of my teacher!_ Even as the words bounced around in her head, she knew that wasn't quite it; Mr. Schue _was_ her teacher, yes, but this was more than that—right then she realized that _he_ was more than that.

The thought was very sudden, and mildly paralyzing as she paused, her hand on the zipper now at her lower back. Rachel turned around, Mr. Schue's groan sending endorphins through her veins fast enough to make her stumble as she slid the dress off and to the floor.

She still wore a strapless bra and panty set beneath, but the lace was more revealing than she was used to, especially in additional company. Turning slowly, she stepped out from the pooled dress at her feet, her face neutral (and terrified), as she sat back down in her spot, looking at Mr. Schue across from her. She swung her feet in the water, and before she knew it, he had her left foot in his hand. His skin on hers felt amazing, even beneath the water, and she couldn't help but gasp as his grip slid up her leg, coming to rest on her outer thigh.

She licked her lips and tried to slow her breathing as the hand on her thigh tugged her forward, before he stepped up to her barely parted thighs. Mr. Schuester said nothing, but tugged on the thigh in his hand. Rachel's heart pounded with the message, her eyes feeling dry suddenly, before she shut them and let her legs fall open just slightly. He immediately stepped closer to her, the heated flesh of his stomach brushing against her knees.

Mr. Schue's hand slid up her thigh, past her hip, and splayed across her lower back. She couldn't help the gasp as his fingers dug into her flesh as she looked him in the eye. He gulped as his left hand fell to her knee, closing and opening a fist around the thin skin over the fragile bone."I—we should not do this. We shouldn't have done any of it," with a glance to the offending bottle that had caused all of the trouble.

Despite his words, Mr. Schue's hand twitched against her lower back, and Rachel could tell he was trying to keep himself from pulling her closer. Summoning her courage, Rachel brought her left hand to his forearm, gripping tightly as her other fingers threaded through his thick hair.

She bit her lip, keeping eye contact. "But you want to," she whispered, tugging gently at the back of his head, her skin prickling from his forceful touch and her own bravery. His eyes closed, finally, and the hand on her knee slid up to meet the other at her lower back.

"No," he lied through his teeth as he finally rested his fingers firmly on her shoulder blades. Before Rachel could call him on it, his hands pushed on her back, and he met her eyes again, as he bit out, "Spread your legs."

His words were a shot of liquid fire through her, and tilting her head back, she did as she was told. A hot burst of air at her throat was the only warning she had before she felt Mr. Schue in front of her, completely. Glancing down, she only had a second to glimpse the thin fabric of his boxer briefs clinging to him, doing nothing to hide the evidence of his previous lie.

A moment later his hot mouth was on her neck, his teeth raking carelessly over her flesh as his hands pressed harder on her back, bringing her into full contact with the hard lines of his body. The, "fuck, Mr. Schue," was startling to both of them, and Mr. Schue's head shot up, their faces centimeters apart.

Rachel was equally unsure if the hard set of his jaw and dark fire in his eyes was a look that he was ready to stop her or devour her, but she braced herself for either possibility. Licking her lips quickly, she visibly jumped as his eyes fluttered shut in a guttural groan.

As his hands fluttered quickly to the fastening of her bra, a smile crossed his lips, and he opened his eyes again. Taking his reaction as a good sign, Rachel arched her back slightly, and gave him a playful smile. "I've never kissed my favorite teacher," and she knew it was a strange way to tell him, but she very suddenly _needed_ him to know how much she valued him.

He tsked her, but leaned his face closer, burying his nose just under her ear, as she heard him breath her in. "Game's over, Rach—God damn it, you smell fucking incredible," he placed harsh kisses there, and trailed up to her mouth, a smile on both of their mouths.

"Well—" and whatever she'd had as a clever comeback was gone, his mouth resting hotly over hers, breathing her in and biting at her lips, as if to chide her for daring to speak. It was her audible groan this time, as she dug her nails into his forearm, and ran her hand down from his neck to his chest, the lack of space between them making it difficult.

Clutching at his chest as her tongue swiped at his lips, their teeth bumping every once in a while as they fought for breath and control. Rachel managed one final nip at his full bottom lip before he broke away, instead deciding to attack the pulse at her neck as his fingers tangled with her bra clasp. Arching her back further as his tongue trailed from neck to clavicle, her mouth dropped open, and her eyes clenched shut tighter. Her other hand scrambled to join its twin between their bodies, as she gasped, "Ooh, oh God, Mr. Schue!"

As he accomplished his goal, Mr. Schue let her bra drop down between their bodies, coming to rest in her lap. Leaning back so she could toss the garment away, his hands stopped her quickly, both taking a wrist fully.

She'd never felt quite so fragile and delicate, but at the same time all-powerful. Mr. Schue's eyes were heavy, and he searched her face as if begging permission to let him touch her, taste her. The rush of power was almost as heady as the feel of him between her knees, so she let her knees bracket his hips as he pulled her arms to the side.

"Jesus Christ, you're fucking perfect."

Her cheeks were bright red, she just knew, but as his lips took her right nipple into his mouth, she dropped her hunched shoulders and fell open to him completely, her movement shifting their lower bodies further into contact.

The sudden grind together startled Mr. Schue, Rachel could tell, as his teeth bit down gently on the pebbled flesh in his mouth. Smirking at the pain-tinged pleasure, Rachel rolled her hips experimentally, her eyes wide and gauging his reaction.

"I, oh!" She devolved into embarrassing keening noises after that, as he dropped her wrists and encased her hips in his large hands, repeatedly pulling her closer as he ground into her. The pressure on her clit was unexpected and oh, so nice, so she brought his face back up to hers with a hand under his jaw.

No more urging was needed and they were back at it, their mouths coming together in an uncoordinated, delicious meld. "I've never don—fucked in a pool," she substituted at the last second, remembering his previous reaction to her expletive.

She was rewarded for her note-taking ability when he unceremoniously tugged her forward and off of the tile, into the hot tub. His leg was propped on the seat, and she landed astride it, his hands on her ass as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Rach, Rachel, stop baby." A flash of panic so intense it was ice in her veins as she met his eyes and waited for his refusal. "We—what are we," he ran a wet hand through his hair, and she couldn't help but smile at the adorable way the water dripped down one side of his face. He smiled back slightly, but eased her off of his thigh and sat her down on the bench of the hot tub. He backed up himself, and sat on the wall next to her. "I can't believe I let this get so out of hand."

The disappointment and rejection was visceral, and Rachel bit her cheek to stem the tears of humiliation she felt. Shaking her hair back as she leaned against the wall of the hot tub, Rachel glanced over to Mr. Schue, noting that his eyes shifted quickly away from her.

 _He_ does _want me, he can't deny it_ , she smirked, and arched her back, her breasts bobbing above the water. His deep and erratic breathing reiterated what she already knew, and she stood up in the hot tub. Feeling confident and sexy, and quite powerful, Rachel cut through the water to stand in front of him. Catching his eyes as he tried to figure out what she was doing, she maintained eye contact and bent forward, toward him. Slowly sliding her hands to her hips, she tugged at the lacy, now see-through material, and pushed it off of her hips, before bending down and taking it off, fully.

"Rachel, I don't—fuck," he groaned as she stood in front of him, naked, and dropped the panties on the tile behind his head. Smiling a big smile, she sank down, resting her knees on either side of his hips, staying a foot above him, but inches from his chest.

Her smile wavered after he didn't immediately touch her, but rather than panic, she found his hands under the water and rested them on her hips. It didn't escape her notice that they gripped down, tightly, or that his eyes rolled ever-so-slightly as she put her hands on his shoulders.

Sinking down lower onto him, Rachel brought her lips to his neck and pressed soft, sweet kisses there, before whispering in his ear, "Please, Will?" as she rested fully in his lap. His cock pressed hard against her, and she couldn't help the small roll of her hips at the feel of him.

"God damn you," he managed to ground out as her hips fell against his again and again. He wasn't doing anything to stop her, but instead was urging her hips forward, his palms pressing down on her slick flesh as he felt her smile against his jawline. Rachel giggled, and slid her hands back to their place on his chest, before allowing them to trail down farther, fully under the water.

When they reached their destination, Rachel's fingers curled under the waistband of the worthless material and tugged, trying to be careful of his sensitive flesh, but failing as his hand slid from her lips to press against her folds.

Throwing her head back she let out a sweet-sounding grunt, her eyes closed tightly as she arched her body both into his chest and away from him, her movements stalled on his boxer-briefs. Rachel felt the heat of Mr. Schue's tongue on her throat, as he slid his hand back from her core to rest under her ass. Effortlessly, he lifted her up and set her on her feet, and her eyes shot open as she braced herself for another rejection.

Instead she watched had he stumbled in the water before her, and finally managed to get his shorts off, before tossing them carelessly behind him, and scooping her up again. Rachel's head swam as he maneuvered her back to where she had been, though this time she sat astride him with her front facing the edge of the hot tub.

As though he sensed her mild confusion, Mr. Schue brushed her hair away from her right ear and whispered, "I need to be in you completely," with a sloppy kiss to her neck that felt anything but a mess.

He pulled her flush up against him, and used his left hand to hold her to him by her stomach, while the right hand pushed her legs to dangle on either side of his. Rachel could feel his cock in between his front and her back, and she shifted restlessly at the unusual sensation.

"Are you ready?" She nodded, her chest tight in anticipation and curiosity, the passion in her veins more intense than she'd ever felt before. He shifted her a little, his hand brushing her lower back as he positioned himself, but all Rachel could focus on was the lap of warm water against every side of her, the slick feel of his chest against her back and the heat of his breath on the shell of her ear. Everything felt soft and rounded, like nothing could hurt her, and she supposed that was partly the alcohol, and partly the unexpected sense of safety she felt, here in her teacher's arms.

The feeling of being lifted gently again brought her back and she smiled as she felt his cock prodding, brushing against her clit. Her head fell back at that, resting on his shoulder, her mouth open and then he was inside of her. She was stretching, adjusting as Mr. Schue gently kissed any part of her face and neck he could reach, his hands gently cupping the soft swells of her breasts, tightening as she leaned back, bringing them again out of the warm water.

The heat of their desire and the bubbling liquid was beginning to overwhelm her, and Rachel got the strangest sense she would be severely dehydrated tomorrow. Rachel rolled her hips gently, her eyes drifting open to stare into his, letting him know she was OK, _this_ was OK and she wanted him to move more than she wanted to win Sectionals.

The movement in the water, in the position they were in was awkward, to be sure, but as his mouth descended back onto hers, she didn't mind, instead letting her tongue dash out to play with his upper lip for just a second.

Rachel wanted to say a million things, tell him exactly that this was what she wanted, why she knew she was special, but it all jumbled together in the heat of the room and him, to become a long, aching moan. An expletive met her noise, and Mr. Schue bucked his hips, not expecting quite the response from her.

"Oh, my—fuck, good!" Dropped from her mouth and she blushed, but her hand flew to his splayed across her stomach, to let him know what had caused such a reaction. "God, Will—the jet!" And devolved into moans that had more whine than anything in them as he pushed her back under it.

Now riding both his cock and a powerful blast of water, Rachel felt the tension mounting under her skin rapidly, her veins practically boiling in need of release. His mouth fell open between her neck and shoulder, placing kisses there between gasping breaths and moans of, "God," and "please."

She nodded her head in agreement, and braced one hand on the cool tile out of the pool, the other going to her stomach to curl her fingers between his, in a movement that felt both too damn cliché, and so damn good.

Rachel prayed she wasn't crushing his beautiful hand as the pressure finally spiked, and she felt her walls clench down on him, fluttering against his cock as her eyes squeezed tightly together, her nails undoubtedly getting chipped on the grout between the tiles.

Mr. Schue followed immediately after, his mouth closing as his teeth dug into her in a place she would fortunately be able to cover, his hand gripping hers back just as hard. Rachel leaned forward, ready to climb off of him and wait for the reality of what they'd just done sink in, but instead his hand slackened most of the way, but squeezed her slightly. "Just a minute longer," he murmured against her neck, before trailing kisses back to the bite mark he'd left.

He sat down on the hot tub bench and wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers grazing her hip gently. "I've never done that before," his tone was both light and joking, but also nervous, and it concerned Rachel.

Deciding to take her one last moment before reality came crashing in on them, she turned slightly so she could look him in the eye, and she smirked. "I dare you to try and forget it."

  



End file.
